What Color's My Collar
by The Last Kitten
Summary: This is meant to be a comical spoof on the lives of people who work at an animal shelter...and just happen to have super powers. It's rated M because I'm incapable of writing anything else. Mostly M for Violence


Well hello! Moshi moshi! Hola! Aloha!

Marie here! Welcome to my new mini series What Color's My Collar.

I've been writing short stories and fan fiction chapter stories for so long I thought I'd try my hand at writing a mini series.

I'm challenging myself to write a five hundred word or under episode at least once a week. Why is this a challenge you may ask. Well for one I'm terrible with deadlines, and for two my chapters just seem to keep going and going.

I could also stand to work on my grammar and spelling, so this series will go unedited by my editor, The Mad Scientist.

I'd very much appreciate feedback and constructive criticism so feel free to shoot me an e-mail.

Here we go….

What Color's My Collar

Episode One

The impact of the water knocked the boy off his feet.

An innocent bystander, on his way home in the arms of his mother; the instant his feet touched the ground he was thrown back off them.

Gas remembered the rush and screams of his mother as she protected him with her body.

The march had caught up with them, and Gas only blinked again, slowly, as she watched the new first family walk to the stage.

Chocolate faces the same shade of her own smiled back at the crowed of thousands.

Black hands waved at brown and white and yellow, and again Gas blinked.

In all her years, even she never thought she'd see a descendant of the great elephant plane govern this young nation.

The dawn seemed to come with her third blink and she went about readying herself for another long day at The Shelter.

The smell of old cat urine greeted her nose as she entered through the back door, and she remembered a time when there wasn't a choice in entrances for people who looked like her.

She greeted Wols Marhc, their newest caretaker, currently drying a metal litter box, and he smiled and nodded to her.

Next was the smell of smamals being cleaned, another fairly new addition, Thrifty Drift, having placed the rabbits and guinepigs in easily escapable cardboard carriers.

Another simultaneous nod and wave and Gas was climbing the long wooden staircase to the top floor of their makeshift shelter.

A converted row house served as home to the dozens of animals currently stinking up the place, and during her musing Gas's foot as it did regularly missed a steep, her hand flying out to catch her weight before her face caught it.

The laugh she let out was a reflex meant to save her sanity from her clumsy nature, and the laugh that came from above her was good natured as well.

Gas looked up to find Photo Tech, needle in hand, vaccinating a newly arrived kitten.

A hero both in and out of spandex, Phopho, as Gas called her, was driven and kind.

A heroin misunderstood and repeatedly overlooked by the larger leagues of super heroes.

People always underestimated the use of animal abilities.

Gas climbed to her feet and continued up the stairs.

"Mornen, Pho pho," she grinned.

"I told you not to call me that, Gassy," she laughed.

Gas stuck her tongue out and continued on to her locker.

"So, how was your night last night," Gas asked.

Photo went still remembering the look on the hunters face as the wolf he'd just shot jumped up and tore at his leg.

The snow was bright red when the wolf finished with him, and the resident birds of prey she called down took care of the rest. The shadow at her side looked to the sky and a light snow began to fall. Soon the entire valley was white again.

"It was good…WD and I went out…."

O_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o

Wew Wew! Four hundred and ninety eight words! Not bad.

I know that got a little Kafka-esk with the run on sentences but bare with me. lol

If you're wondering, yes this story is based on a real place. Yes, the people in it are real people, and yes, I tend to trip up and down the damn stairs quite often.


End file.
